Corlona's crystalway station was a fair example of decay, as was every self-respecting station in the kingdom of Ferlonia. It had been built with good intentions, and half a century ago the large gray tiles on the floors must have shone thanks to the elbow grease of the eager cleaning staff. Even the cabs were always supposed to be on time, back in the days of Fernando III. But now the decaying, immense station was stagnating in a haze of neglect and corrosion.

The windows of the west wing gallery were covered in a thick layer of dust and the light that filtered through it diffused into the large space without really illuminating anything. The iron frame of the gallery and the pipes along the walls were red with rust. Tufts of grass sprouted between the discontinuous flooring. A fountain where water had not flowed for years, in the center of a pedestal next to the monorail 1-bis bank, was now covered in cobwebs and full of cigarette butts and rubbish. The statues in the center of the fountain had a religious theme. A saint, perhaps Saint Orfena, recognizable by the shawl on her shoulders and the hibiscus flower pinned to her chest, was holding a carafe and the child Lazul was holding up her petticoat; animals immersed in vegetation, sculpted on the edge of the basin, seemed to watch in astonishment at the scene unfolding at its center.

Anker, too, on one of the benches arranged next to the pedestal, was looking Saint Orfena in her stone eyes. There were only a handful of travelers waiting on the crystalway platform, and Anker had chosen that spot precisely for that reason, as he needed to have a snack away from prying eyes. He had been out since early morning, had skipped breakfast to recover all the equipment needed for the mission, and now he was starving. He pulled a red apple from a pocket on his belt and began to munch on it. Dressed as he was, in his thug's attire, with his hood pulled down over his head, he attracted only sporadic glances of suspicion.

He calmly finished the apple, until nothing was left but the white core, and threw it into the fountain basin, then stretched and rested for a few more minutes. When he realized that the morning chill was starting to creep into his joints, Anker decided to start his investigation. He walked slowly towards the ticket office, and then towards the other arm of the station.

Outside the portico of the east wing of Corlona station, where most of the cars bound for the southern provinces of the kingdom passed and there was more bustling traffic, street vendors had set up stalls selling junk. Stern faces of vendors and crooks studied the passengers waiting for their ride, like a pack of mangy dogs in front of a butcher's shop window.

About halfway down the length of the platform, a man with a scar on his left cheek stood motionless next to the staircase that led from the street of street vendors to the station portico and then into the east gallery, and looked towards the sea. The man was wearing a long-flapped doublet and was hiding something under it. Anker decided that this was the ideal candidate to kick off his investigation.

The man immediately noticed that Anker was heading towards him, and as soon as he was at his level, without even giving him time to descend the stairs, he asked him, “What are you looking for, kid? Do you need something?”

“No, but I have something that might interest you,” Anker said with conviction.

“I don't think so,” the man replied.

“I've gotten my hands on some merchandise that's not so easy to find,” Anker insisted, without arousing the slightest interest in the man, “I have some 'worms' to place.”

“I don't deal with that stuff,” the man replied, with an ostile glance.

“Maybe you don’t directly, but I'm sure you know someone who might be interested. Put me in touch with them and you'll cut yourself a generous commission.”

“I don't know anyone,” the man grunted, gritting his teeth. Anker realized that some ugly faces were emerging from the rows of stalls and were approaching. His presence was unwelcome.

“Well, if anything comes to mind, this is my speculum code. Send me a message, I'll be around for a few days. It's a good deal, easy money. Don't miss out,” Anker concluded, handing over a note. But the man didn't move a finger to receive it, so Anker just let it flutter down and walked away.

*****

The fish market was a twenty-minute walk from the station. Anker headed there reluctantly, kicking every pebble he encountered on the road. He had never carried out an operation in civilian attire, but that first attempt, which had failed so miserably, had taken a heavy toll on his motivation. Of course, with the right resources, he would have been able to work his way around even the most cautious dealers, but that unwavering wall of distrust he had encountered would certainly not have crumbled in time for the success of his mission.

During the journey, a single smile appeared on his face when he received a comically long message from an unknown code: it was Viryl who had finally bought a speculum and was trying to figure out how it worked. So he had sent him an epistle of almost twenty lines solemnly signed "Viryl of Zelfiria".

While reading Viryl's letter, Anker turned from the wide tree-lined promenade that from the city center led to the station into an alleyway flanked by buildings with peeling plaster, then took another alleyway, and another, until he reached a panoramic terrace overlooking the north bank of the Lona River, the river port and the fish market just below it. From the viewpoint, a wide staircase led to the lower level of the city, and Anker descended it.

The chaos and utter organizational anarchy that reigned in the giant rectangular square of half a mile by two where the outdoor market was held immediately overwhelmed him.

The situation was so shambolic that, between shouts and merchandise thrown haphazardly on unhygienic rush mats, it was not even possible to understand the procedure for closing deals, or who the sellers and buyers were: the market appeared to Anker as an alien ecosystem with its own rules. It was not even properly definable as a "fish market", but rather more a neighborhood market, since, in addition to the abundant catch, there were also cheeses, sausages, wheat, fruit, and vegetables on sale.

Nevertheless, Anker waded into the crowd, and the excessive flow of sensory impulses reverberating around him initially prevented his attention from focusing on anything in particular. At one point, however, it was caught by the screams of a child yelling, "Let me go! Let me go!"

Anker pushed through the crowd until he reached the source of the screams.

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A hefty man with a balding head and dressed in white was tightly gripping the frail arm of a raggedy-dressed boy, who seemed on the verge of collapse. The little thief had been caught red-handed, and returning the stolen goods wasn't entirely feasible because the first thing the child did was gulp down a pastry whole, even before the burly man grabbed him. The poor kid must have been truly starving, but none of the onlookers seemed moved to compassion. "No one will save you from the coppers this time, you small pest," the fat merchant was saying.

Inclined to disagree, Anker stepped forward. “How much do you want for that damned pastry?”

“Ten grains.”

“What?! Are you pulling my leg?! That pastry can't cost more than a couple of tornesi!”

“Ten grains or nothing. You have no idea how much this rascal has swindled me out of in the last three months!”

“You know what? I'll give you the double, but leave the whole bag of pastries and a loaf of bread for the boy!” Anker proposed, handing his coin to the merchant.

“As you wish, sir,” the merchant responded sarcastically, filling a bag with the requested goods. The little rascal snatched the gift and vanished without even a thank you. Anker sighed and resumed his exploration of the market. An exploration that proceeded rather slowly, due to the human density that held him captive like an ant in a jar of honey.

"If I stay in this chaos, I won't get anything done," Anker thought, and noticed that under the loggia along the shady north side of the square, where there were a few small establishments serving alcohol, there was considerably less turmoil. People were sitting at the tables, reading newspapers, playing cards, and drinking liquor and coffee. Maybe he could get something to drink himself and wait for the morning frenzy of the market to subside.

While he was considering this possibility, Anker felt a deliberate groping. It was different from just being touched in a crowd. Instinctively, he grabbed the hand that was rummaging through the back pocket of his belt and spun around abruptly to catch the pickpocket in the act.

A mischievous-looking girl, to use a euphemism, smiled at him and said, “Oops, caught me.”

Facing such a cute lass with such a sweet voice, Anker immediately released his grip but firmly said, “Keep your hands to yourself,” as he began to step back to distance himself from her.

“Hey, sir, wait a second, please,” the girl beckoned, with pleading puppy eyes that were hard to resist.

But Anker, with staunch willpower, replied, “I'm afraid we have nothing to say to each other. Stay away from me,” and attempted to leave, but was jostled back by a man vigorously bidding for a crate of haddock. His chest pressed against the girl's soft bosom, and their eyes met just inches apart. The girl had a sweet floral scent, and Anker blushed visibly.

“Come on, don't play hard to get!” the girl exclaimed playfully, and grabbed him like a fish on a hook. Holding Anker by the wrist, the girl slipped through the crowd and into a narrow street south of the square, in the opposite direction from where Anker wanted to go. Anker didn't resist. Or rather, he didn't want to.

“Ah, finally! Here we can have a chat, away from all that confusion,” the girl said. In fact, except for a few passersby going to or from the market, the little alley was undeniably quiet.

Anker folded his arms and asked her what the hell she wanted from him. Now that he was looking at her better, the woman was even prettier than she had appeared in the crowd. She was a little younger than him, and her copper eyes were lively and fresh, framed by a flowing raven-black hair. The thin lips that surrounded her tiny mouth were red and mischievous. Her breasts were not particularly abundant, but well-balanced and defined, and their shapes could be guessed under the oversized white men's shirt she was wearing.

“Well, it's simple: I need money, and your wallet looks pretty plump. I would have preferred to snatch it from you without you noticing, but since you've caught me... how about you give me a chance to earn some of it honestly?”she replied with a wink.

“Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not interested,” Anker said with a grimace of disgust.

“Please, don't say no, I really need it. My mother is sick, and she's been off her medication for three days... if I don't find some money right away…” the girl pleaded, her voice soft enough to melt a heart buried under a perpetual glacier.

“Ah, damn it, I get it,” Anker sighed. The girl must have seen him giving away his money to help the little boy and taken him for a pushover. "If you like, I can give you some coins for those medicines. I hope it's enough, but I can't give you more."

“Oh... that might work too. The thing is, I don't know exactly how much I need and I don't want to ask for more than necessary, sir. Would you accompany me to the pharmacy?” the girl asked timidly.

“Ok, well,” Anker replied with a shrug.

In a different situation, an astute knight of the Royal Order of Ferlonia would have certainly smelled the fishy business from a hundred yards away. The girl had gone from wanting the whole purse to a part of it, and finally settled for a few coins, even being scrupulous about it. But Anker’s brain had ceased working properly. Unconsciously he just wanted to spend as much time with the charming lady as possible. Comically, he felt quite brilliant for how he had handled things. She had tried to fool him, but he was definitely no fool.

“Are you really sure you don't want to make something more with me than just taking me to the pharmacy? It's a rare occasion to find someone so young and handsome!” the girl sensually whispered after a while, as she made her way through increasingly narrow alleyways.

“You might not be able to tell from my attire, but I'm more of a serious relationship kind of guy. And I travel a lot, so I can't really have a serious relationship. And then you haven't even told me your name.”

“Me? I'm Nicaria, but call me Nika. You?”

“My name is A… rtolt.”

“Well, Artolt. Now that we've taken care of the formalities, the offer still stands. I don't bite, you know?”

Anker chuckled and replied, “That's not what I'm worried about, Nika.”

“Oh, come on, you're such a bore,” Nika protested, puffing out her cheeks. “But luckily, we're almost there.”

Anker looked around, in what seemed to be a dead end, “Where are we going? The buildings that face this street all seem to be rundown apartment houses, if not abandoned altogether. And I don't see the sign of any pharmacy.”

The alleyway, paved in rough concrete, was slightly uphill and neglected, with rusty bins thrown haphazardly and weeds that had carved a path along the walls. It was formed from the back of old buildings that had their facades on parallel streets. Those that opened onto the little street all seemed to be service doors, perhaps originally intended for unloading goods from the businesses that must have been located on the first floors of the buildings. The alleyway ended in a brick wall at least ten feet high, while the first two buildings at the other end of it had wooden stairs on the outside, with a landing on each floor.

“I tried to make it pleasant and painless for you, Artolt. But since you wanted to play it like that, well…” Nika said, with a hint of disappointment in her voice. She was a few steps ahead of Anker, and took advantage of the distance to run to the door of a building at the end of the alley before Anker could have time to grab her.

Anker tried to run after her, but by the time he reached the door, she had already closed it behind her. Anker then began to knock vehemently, asking her why she had brought him to that place. As he tried to get in, a group of thugs emerged from four other doors of the neighboring and opposite buildings, surrounding him.

Realizing where things were headed, Anker turned to face his enemies and picked up the short stick he had decided to adopt as a weapon during his investigation, as it would have gone unnoticed among the civilians of Corlona.

Had he fallen into a trap? Without a doubt. Yet he felt gripped by an uncontrollable excitement. He was seized by a bizarre and innate instinct: he was no random victim, and by the time he settled the matter he would at least take a step closer to the anarchists' lair.

The hunch materialized when two men stepped out onto the external landing on the third floor of the building on the left at the beginning of the alley. One of the two, the man from the station with the scar on his left cheek, pointed at Anker. The other man, a young and skinny guy with a fox-like face, handed him a bag, likely filled with coins. Having received the payment, the man with the scar on his face left, returning to the building.

After all, failing to win the hearts of Corlona’s dealers had its advantages, Anker thought. He had saved himself the commission money.